


Lost Days

by CrlkSeasons



Series: Thirty Days Onward [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 07:44:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10079957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrlkSeasons/pseuds/CrlkSeasons
Summary: Thirty Days from B'Elanna's point of view.Although written recently and not part of the original set of Thirty Days Onward stories, it fits in with Matters of Discipline.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [R_S_B](https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_S_B/gifts).



Denial

 

“All hands, this is the Captain. Be advised that ship’s pilots are on a revised schedule until further notice. Senior staff, report for briefing in one hour.” 

B’Elanna stared at the empty space at the end of the corridor. She told herself, “This isn’t real. Any second Tom will come back and tell me this was one of his jokes. We’ll go to his quarters to discuss the real consequences of his actions on Monea. He’ll be on report, loss of rations and holodeck privileges for sure. He’ll probably have to serve double shifts for a while. We can deal with that. We’ll manage.”

But the guards who escorted Tom were not heading to his quarters and there was only a single pip on his collar when he walked by.

This was bad, worse than she imagined. 

Harry left Seven’s side and gently took hold of B’Elanna’s arm. “B’Elanna, let’s go. There’s nothing left for us to do here.”

She shook him off. Sympathy was the last thing she wanted right now.

...................................................

Lights blinked on a console that was spending way too much time flirting with her engineering staff. B’Elanna yanked the cover off a nearby panel to access secondary systems. “NIcoletti! Watch those readings while I stabilize power to the port thrusters.”

Susan Nicoletti knew what to do. She shifted over from her regular station to monitor the fluctuating data. “What’s Baytart doing this time?” she grumbled. 

B’Elanna shrugged. “Cutting it too fine again, trying to impress the Captain. He’s been like a kid on a sugar rush ever since he took over main shift.”

One final tweak and B’Elanna closed the panel. She stepped over to examine the energy levels on the now co-operating console. “There, that should do it.”

“Until next time,” Chell piped up.

“Then we’ll handle it again next time,” B’Elanna retorted. 

Chell ducked back down behind his station. 

B’Elanna shook her head. It had been like this all week, people thrown off balance, making mistakes. The constant repairs made for long shifts in engineering. Her staff was losing patience. She couldn’t blame them, but she couldn’t let their frustrations get out of hand either. 

On top of everything else, people insisted on dropping in ‘to see how she was doing’. Harry regularly stopped by during his break to invite her for coffee. Chakotay challenged her to a game of hoverball almost every day. The Captain had even offered her a few days off – as if she couldn’t do her job! It was getting annoying. If it kept up like this the whole month, she’d end up screaming. 

If everyone would just act normally, it would be like having Tom away on an extended mission. At least she knew he was safe where he was, in no danger of running into ion storms or hostile aliens. She could even get updates by pumping Neelix for information after he delivered Tom’s meals to the brig - which she should be doing right now. “Nicoletti, take over. I’m on a break.”

The lunch menu in the mess hall wasn’t promising, leola root stew, again. Neelix explained the last time that since he had to make leola root for Tom anyway, it was easier to make a batch big enough for everyone. B’Elanna didn’t know whether to laugh at this sharing of the prisoner’s diet, or protest that her staff already had enough to complain about. 

B’Elanna waited at the counter. Neelix usually came out of his kitchen to greet her as soon as she arrived, but the only sign of him now was a patch of garish jacket between two heavy pots. His surprise when B’Elanna walked around the counter to find him was totally unconvincing. 

“B’Elanna! Oh, my! I didn’t expect to see you here again today.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve come by every meal since you started delivering Tom’s food to the brig. Neelix, what’s going on?”

“I meant to tell you. I’ve just been so busy.” Neelix waved his hands at the odds and ends still on his prep counter.

B’Elanna ignored his attempt at misdirection. “Is something wrong with Tom?”

Neelix’s shoulders drooped. “The Captain heard that I’m spending time talking with Tom when I deliver his meals. She called me to her ready room. I’m no longer allowed to stay and visit after I’ve dropped off his tray.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Neelix shook his head. “Sadly no. Apparently it violates the terms of the agreement that she reached with the Moneans.” 

B’Elanna slammed the tool she was still carrying onto the counter, breaking off the end of its calibrator.”

“B’Elanna, Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. The hyperspanner was malfunctioning. I didn’t want to get it mixed up with my other ones.” 

“Well I’d say you accomplished that.” Neelix regarded the misshapen tool with a shudder of sympathy

“Excuse me, Neelix.” B’Elanna turned away from him and tapped her comm badge. “Torres to Chakotay.”

“Chakotay here.”

“Where and when do you want to meet for that game of hoverball you’ve been pestering me about?”

Short pause, “Holodeck two, nineteen hundred hours?”

“Fine!” 

*********************************************

Anger

B’Elanna pressed her advantage, getting match point and narrowly missing Chakotay’s head, again. “Game!”

She pulled off her hoverball equipment and grabbed a towel to wipe off the perspiration sliding down the side of her face. 

Chakotay followed at a relaxed pace, toweling himself before shutting down the program. With the court gone the two of them stood, towels in hand, in the empty grid. “So, do you want to talk about it?”

B’Elanna swiped at a bead of moisture on her forehead. “Talk about what?”

Chakotay draped his towel around his neck and leaned against a brace on the grid wall. “Talk about you trying to treat my head like a hoverball and shoot it across the court.”

B’Elanna glared at him. “You’re too slow. You’ve been spending too much time sitting on the bridge. You’ve lost your touch.”

“Is that what you’re mad about, that I’m Voyager’s First Officer, that I acted like it on the bridge?”

“No!” She began pacing in the space now too small for pacing. “Yes!” After a few minutes of stormy silence she blurted out, “I’m angry, dammit. Can’t I ever be angry without people saying that there’s something wrong with me?”

B’Elanna stopped near the door and did a mock version of an unidentifiable crewman. “Oh, look. Torres is angry – again. What’s wrong this time? It must be the Klingon in her.” B’Elanna flopped down on the floor and slumped against a section of bare wall. 

Chakotay crossed the holodeck and crouched down beside her. He took time to consider her words before speaking. “You’re right. You are entitled to feel angry - sometimes.” He took another minute to mull that over before asking, “So what, exactly, are you angry about?” 

“Top of the list? Captain Starfleet Janeway. First of all, without consulting any of us, she strands us way out here in the Delta Quadrant. Okay I get it now. I’ve even gotten used to the idea. I just thought that I should start with the big one.” She glared, challenging Chakotay to placate her.

He nodded, “Go on.”

“Skipping ahead. There’s using Tom as an undercover agent, placing his life in danger and shutting you out. After that there’s deciding we should be best friends with the Borg. Then you must remember her letting the Mari almost lobotomize me because, ‘We have to respect alien laws.’” 

B’Elanna scrambled to her feet and returned to pacing the room. “She violated my personal rights when she overrode my decision and let that murdering medical hologram treat me. I still haven’t forgiven her for that piece of interference. Now this! Don’t bother to explain her reasons. She went over all that at the senior staff briefing, even making the point that we wouldn’t want one of our own staff to ignore our instructions and take unilateral action. Don’t think that I didn’t know that that little comment was meant for me.”

When Chakotay didn’t reply, B’Elanna continued. “She made it clear then that her decision wasn’t up for debate. But we’re nowhere near Monean space anymore and she hasn’t lightened up one bit!”

This time Chakotay did have something to say. “We made an agreement with the Monean authorities when they let us take Tom away with us. The Captain can’t go back on her word.”

B’Elanna wasn’t buying. “Oh, yes, Starfleet principles! Starfleet is big on principles as long as they’re Starfleet’s principles and no one else’s.”

“I’d say you’ve covered the Captain pretty thoroughly.” Chakotay noted equitably. “What else is on your mind?”

“Isn’t that enough?”

“If that were it, you would have come to me before now and you wouldn’t turn down so many of Harry’s invitations for coffee.”

B’Elanna paced a while longer, then slumped back near Chakotay on the floor. “Yeah, there’s more. I’m mad at you and I’m mad at Harry for being so Starfleet on the bridge when Voyager fired on Tom.” She rested her head against the wall. “I’m mad at me, for not figuring out what was going to happen and doing something to stop it.” 

“And?”

“Damn it, I’m mad at Tom. I’m angry that he picked this time and place to decide to be a hero. I’m angry that he put himself in the line of fire. I’m angry that he cared so much for that ball of water that he put everything that we have at risk and I’m angry that I care and know I could lose him. The worst part is that I can’t tell him that I’m angry. Not now.”

Chakotay nodded. “I’d say you have good reason to be angry.” He looked over at her partially hidden face. “I’m angry too.” 

B’Elanna leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees. “Are you? You don’t show it much. Not anymore.”

“It’s my job.”

“Are you mad at Tom?”

“Strangely enough, I’m not. I’m not particularly happy with him right now. But I’m not angry with him. I know what it’s like when there’s something you believe you have to do.”

“Then what are you angry about?”

“I’m angry that a people who settled on a planet rich with sea life think that putting down roots entitles them to make decisions that could destroy that world. I’m angry that passion isn’t enough to right wrongs. I’m angry that it’s my job to help the crew through all the upsets this is causing, but I’m not allowed to show my own frustrations.”

B’Elanna turned her head to look directly at Chakotay. “Have we gotten to the part where you tell me to put aside my personal differences with Captain Janeway because as Chief Engineer I have a duty to the ship?”

“It’s not my job to defend the Captain’s decisions to her Chief Engineer. My job is to make sure that those decisions get carried out the best way possible. Besides, right now I’m not here as your superior officer. I’m here as your friend,” 

“Okay, so I won’t make your job any harder. I won’t break her nose.”

Chakotay quirked a smile, “That will help - a lot. I appreciate it.”

B’Elanna stood up and reached down to give him a hand to his feet. “Same time tomorrow?” 

“If we’re going to continue the way we did today, we should wear thicker helmets.”

“Helmets are for sissies.” She retorted. 

He maintained his occasionally infuriating composure as they walked along the corridor. “And for people smart enough to know that you have to live to play another day. I don’t intend to be this easy on you tomorrow.”

“Easy on me? Hah! You were sweating five minutes into the match!”

“Keep deluding yourself.” Chakotay let the turbolift doors close before she could counter with another jab.

B’Elanna slung her towel over her shoulder and headed to her own quarters to change.

**************************************************

Bargaining

B’Elanna established a regular routine of extended shifts with evenings of hoverball. It wasn’t the solution to everything. But it helped. On the way back from one of her matches Harry hailed her in the corridor. 

“B’Elanna! Wait up!”

B’Elanna barely slowed her pace. “I don’t need another coffee, Harry.” 

“It’s not that.” Harry took a chance and pulled B’Elanna out of the line of foot traffic. He checked that no one could overhear and whispered. “The Captain is letting me visit Tom in the brig.”

“What!” B’Elanna dragged Harry into a side corridor. “When? Why?”

“Right now. The Captain has her reasons. There’s not much I can tell you. But I thought you should know before I see Tom.”

“Can you pass along a message?”

“I don’t know. I won’t have a lot of time and I have an assignment to do. I can try.”

“If you can, tell Tom that I’m okay. It’s not the same without him, but I’m okay.” 

“Wait for me in the mess hall. I’ll meet you there after I’m done.” 

B’Elanna changed quickly and took over an empty table in a corner of the mess hall. She waved off Neelix’s attempt to buzz around with cheerful conversation. She wished she’d thought to bring a padd with her so she could pretend to read. She made do by closing her eyes and pretending to rest. 

Her mind raced at full speed, taking her to a place she’d rather not go. She was back on the holodeck, sitting beside Tom in his ridiculous space program, the one where he took off Tom Paris and put on Captain Proton. 

She remembered thinking that Tom didn’t need Captain Proton in the real world, that he should trust himself. She heard herself ask, “What about Tom Paris?”

Now she wondered if it would have changed things if she’d left those words unsaid. Or would it all have worked out the same anyway? If she knew for certain, she could let go of the question instead of bumping into it every time she sat still for more than five minutes. 

Harry was later than expected and B’Elanna had way too much time to sit still. She was about to track him down when he finally put in an appearance. He grabbed two coffees from the pot on the counter and set one of them in front of her.

She gave him a chance to sit down and sip his own coffee before asking, “How’s Tom?”

“I said that you missed him. He misses you too.”

“B’Elanna shot him a dirty look. “That’s not what I told you to say.”

“Hey, it’s the truth. The truth is what Tom wants to hear.”

“Okay, okay,” she conceded. She took a sip of the coffee Harry had brought her. “Is it getting really bad for him in there?”

“Well...”

“Come on, Harry, the truth, remember?”

Harry sighed. “Tom isn’t good. He was writing a letter to his father, but he’s given that up. I tried to get him to take it up again. He needs to do something other than staring at walls. I don’t know if I succeeded. I think I did. Maybe. If I’d had more time …”

“You were down there longer than I thought you’d be.”

“Some of that was reporting to the Captain. I don’t think she wants Tom sinking into a black hole either.”

“I see. Well.” B’Elanna rubbed her hands on her knees and stood up. “Look, Harry, I’m bushed. I’m heading for bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Sure.” Harry answered. When B’Elanna started to leave he hunched forward, looking forlorn. 

B’Elanna sighed and came back to the table. “Harry, you did your best.”

“It doesn’t always help, does it?” 

“I guess not.”

**********************************************

Depression

Another day, another double shift and a workout that no longer tired B’Elanna out enough to bring restful sleep. She’d been wrong to think she could pretend this wasn’t real. Every day reminded her how real it was. 

The padd that Tom forgot the last time he was with her was still on the shelf where he’d left it. Yesterday she hunted for her red night slip and then remembered that it was in Tom’s quarters, along with the leftover pizza that they didn’t get around to finishing. On duty, a question would pop up about the Flyer’s specs and she’d start to comm Tom to ask him about it, then realize how stupid that was. Tom was in the brig. 

Alone in her quarters, B’Elanna pulled off her sweaty top and dropped it onto a chair. It landed on top of the uniform that she hadn’t gotten around to putting away. When Tom was here he’d go through the room folding her cast-offs into neat piles. She’d gotten used to it. The first weeks she reminded herself to pick up her clothes. Somehow she stopped doing that. Yesterday’s tunic peeked out from under her uniform, one more layer in a growing pile. 

B’Elanna started to gather her clothes, then let them fall back onto the seat of the chair. She grabbed a purple night slip and stepped into her bathroom for a quick sonic shower. 

When she was done she stopped beside the bathroom door to survey the trail of clothes scattered around her quarters. The trail ended with today’s towel curled around an empty vase. The vase looked orphaned, incomplete without the flowers that Tom insisted on bringing her, sometimes to mark an occasion, sometimes for no reason at all. 

Back before they were a couple, he’d given her a stem of white blossoms to add to the foliage that had ended up in her quarters. “Because every woman deserves something beautiful.”

She had accepted it grudgingly, mainly because even then she knew that it was easier not to argue, to go along with his silly ideas and toss the flower after he’d left. She didn’t throw it away though. It must have been hardier than it looked. It bloomed for weeks. After it faded Tom brought her another flower and she kept that one too. 

When they got together he started giving her red roses. His last rose had faded and was gone. She’d once asked him why he’d switched to roses when they didn’t last nearly as long as the white blossoms. He’d said that roses were for lovers to remind them that they had to work at a relationship, or it might fade too. 

B’Elanna crawled into bed and lay in the dark, thinking. At night it was more difficult to brush aside the many things she missed about Tom, his romantic gestures, his lame jokes, the challenges that pushed her, his stubborn support, the excitement and the comfort of his warm body in bed. 

Night offered B’Elanna no peace. Sleep eluded her. It would be so easy to slip into numbness. She remembered its allure … to let go … to feel no loss … to feel nothing …

B’Elanna sat up abruptly and called up the lights. What the hell was she doing? “Ghay’cha’!” she swore at the night, the walls and herself. She’d wasted months wallowing in that trap after learning the fate of the Maquis in the Alpha Quadrant. She wasn’t sliding back now, not when Tom needed her support. 

It wasn’t going to be easy. Tom liked closeness but he got skittish if he felt he was being smothered. And she wasn’t exactly the hand holding type. She’d have to figure out how she was going to handle this. 

Unfortunately, after nights of doing nothing but thinking she was finally too tired to think. 

What she needed was sleep. “Torres to Chakotay!” 

“Chakotay here. What is it, B’Elanna?” 

“Can you arrange to cover a half shift for me tomorrow morning?”

“I think I can get Seven to do it. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just need to catch up on some sleep.”

“Do you want to take the day off?”

“I’m tired. I’m not an invalid.”

“Understood. Chakotay out.”

B’Elanna threw her extra pillow across the room, pulled the covers up to her chin, cancelled the lights and ordered her body to rest. 

***************************************************

Acceptance

A few days later B’Elanna arrived to find Seven of Nine waiting for her in engineering. “Lt. Torres, I wish to speak to you.” 

This was not B’Elanna’s favorite way to start the day. She leaned against a nearby console, “What is it, Seven? Is there another problem in engineering?”

“Aside from the continuing fluctuations in the port thrusters, no. I understand that you have made little progress in affecting a permanent solution.”

It was an irritating glitch. Other pilots could fly the ship. But Tom understood the engines on an intuitive level. He knew how to translate what he saw and felt into terms that engineers understood. Until he got back they were working at cross-purposes with the helm.

“The problem is proving to be trickier than we first thought. We’ll deal with it,” B’Elanna replied. 

“No doubt,” Seven agreed. “However there is another matter that I wish to discuss. Yesterday, during the inescapable small talk that accompanies our work, Ensign Kim informed me he intends to spend extra time with Ensign Paris after his release, engaging in recreational activities on the holodeck.”

“Harry mentioned that to me. We talked it over. I don’t know how practical his idea is. Tom will be short on rations for a while and Harry’s own rations won’t cover everything he has in mind.”

“Ensign Kim expressed similar concerns. He has decided to ask the crew to assist with extra rations.”

“That sounds like a nice idea.”

“So the plan meets with your approval?”

“I guess so. Why?”

“If you approve, I wish to donate my own unused rations. My needs are not extravagant. I frequently have more than I require.”

“That’s generous of you, Seven.” 

“Very well, I will inform Ensign Kim of my intention to contribute to his reserves.” Instead of leaving abruptly as she usually did, Seven hesitated, seemingly unsure how to end their encounter. 

B’Elanna remembered that Seven had kept vigil with her when she and Harry waited in the corridor for Tom. Seven might rub her the wrong way, but she made an effort to be friends with Tom. 

B’Elanna added, “Tom will appreciate it. I appreciate it too. Thank you, Seven.”

Satisfied, Seven turned and left. 

.................................................. 

Day thirty was in sight. A buzz of anticipation ran through the decks of the ship. Engineering was as busy as ever but B’Elanna managed to steal an extra minute over morning coffee to finalize the data for a personal project. She looked up to see Chakotay grab the chair across from her and sit down. 

He gestured to the padd in her hand. “I hear you’re planning a special dinner for Tom.”

“How did you find out?”

“Harry blabbed.”

“You mean you pulled rank and got him to talk.”

“What can I say? Harry falls for the Starfleet approach every time.”

B’Elanna shook her head at this vision of poor Harry. “Yes, I have something in the works. Why?”

“I thought I should know what you’re up to when I make up the duty roster. I gather that you’ll want both of you to be off shift when it’s time for this dinner.”

“That might help.” B’Elanna commented drily.

“I’ll take care of it,” he assured her. “Let me know what else you’ll need, when the time comes.”

“Thank you. Really, thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it. Believe it or not, the entire senior staff is interested in helping Tom readjust when this is over.”

B’Elanna stiffened at the message embedded in his statement. She wasn’t prepared to go there. “Don’t expect me to cheer for Captain Janeway just yet. It’s going to take time. I’ll wait to see how things work out.” 

Chakotay reached over in a rare gesture to squeeze her arm reassuringly. “They will.” Then he stood up. 

“Are we still on for hoverball?” B’Elanna blurted out, not wanting him to leave with Janeway in the air between them. 

“You tired already?” Chakotay goaded gently. 

“Tired?” B’Elanna dismissed the suggestion with appropriate distain. “That’ll be the day.”

“Then we’re on.”

“Don’t forget your helmet.”

“And yours,” Chakotay shot back before he left. 

B’Elanna returned to her padd. She considered her options and finalized her choice for wine. She wanted to set the right tone for Tom’s first dinner back, to make it clear that nothing important had changed between them. Finally satisfied, she picked up her padd and mug and carried them with her down to engineering. 

Near the end of her shift, B’Elanna wasn’t really surprised when the Captain dropped by, ostensibly to discuss the matter of the thrusters. 

“Chakotay informs me that you’re planning a special dinner. I thought you could use an extra ration or two for coffee. My personal blend is rather good.”

Tom once bragged to B’Elanna that he could make the Delta Flyer turn on a dime – whatever a dime was. A sharp, sudden change in direction was difficult enough for a machine. People weren’t built that way. B’Elanna tried to imagine ending her meal with Tom over a cup of Captain Janeway’s coffee. She couldn’t speak for Tom, but she wasn’t ready for that yet.

“It’s nice of you to offer. But I think I already have everything I need.” 

“I see.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Another time,” the Captain repeated, accepting the unspoken between them. Her eyes swept expertly over B’Elanna’s efficiently run department. “I understand that the glitch in the port thrusters is back again. What progress have you made?”

“We’ve repaired the glitch, several times. The misalignment is a symptom of a deeper problem that runs through the system and connects all the way up to the bridge. Until we resolve the underlying problem, the misalignments will continue to reoccur.” 

“I don’t want to see this drag on much longer. When can you finalize repairs?”

“I’m not sure. If we have to keep fixing glitches as they pop up we won’t get any further ahead. There’s always a chance that the underlying problem will work itself out on its own, but it would be better if we could deal directly with the source.”

“Commander Chakotay recommends that Mr. Paris run some helm simulations when he returns in order to get his insight into the problem.”

“That would be a step in the right direction.” 

“Very well. Once he’s back on duty we’ll take it from there. Meanwhile I suggest we carry on the best we can.”

B’Elanna nodded her agreement. 

They left it at that. For now there was nothing more for either of them to say.


End file.
